


Forcing Pleasure

by moodwriter



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Dubious Consent, M/M, Porn, Power Play, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy's prison life is a game, the kind only Adam can play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forcing Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure porn. It's not meant to be anything but. Sometimes, this is what my mind creates. :)

San Quentin State Prison. It’s not the place Tommy thought he’d spend his thirtieth birthday. Nevertheless, here he is. Maybe it’s justice; he did kill someone. But looking at the crumbling walls and the barbwire fences, he feels like he doesn’t belong. They take off his shackles, guide him into the entrance area where they ask him to strip. A full body search. He’s gotten used to those already, and he just waits. 

Then they ask him questions: if he belongs to a gang, if he has any enemies, if he’s a violent dog. No, he says in all honesty, and the guard looks at him with what must be pity. He’s scrawny. He has no one to protect him. He’ll be a pet. Nice. 

What bothers him the most is the haircut. They take away a part of his personality, but maybe it’s for the better. He doesn’t want to look too pretty. 

Then he’s pushed forward again, towards West Block, his new home. He’s one of the normals, but it doesn’t make him feel any more safe. He’ll be sharing his cell with someone who is most likely stronger, tougher, and meaner than he is. 

When he enters his cell someone is burning something at the other end, cooking, maybe boiling water. That someone is wearing a tanktop and loose boxer shorts, and he doesn’t look up. He’s black-haired, toned, and freakishly tall. Tommy wants to run, but the guard closes the door behind him. 

The cell is so small the bunk bed takes almost half of the space. 

“I’m sleeping top,” the stranger says, pushing the burning roll of something into the toilet, flushing it. “Do you want tea?”

That was nowhere near what Tommy expected to hear. He can’t even open his mouth; he’s so shocked. 

Now the guy looks at Tommy, and there’s an old vertical scar on the left side of his face, going all the way from his hairline to his cheekbone, his eye sewed shut. It’s almost not bad if Tommy didn’t know it’s real. 

“Can you talk?”

“Yes,” he says, wanting to add ‘Sir’ to the end because he’s so fucking scared. 

“Tea?” There are two tin cups on the rickety table, and the guy hands him one. 

He doesn’t drink tea, but who is he to say no to a person he doesn’t know. Anything could happen. He holds his cup obediently while the stranger pours him hot water, and then hands him a teabag. 

It tastes bitter, but Tommy tries to enjoy it. He even smiles and says, “Thanks.”

That must have been a mistake because the guy looks at him from head to toe and says, “Jesus Christ, this is your first time.”

Of course he’s that obvious. He’s not a criminal, or wasn’t until this. “First time for everything,” he says, trying not to shake.

“Indeed.” He gets another long stare, then, “I’m Adam.” No handshake, though. 

“Tommy.”

“Welcome to San Quentin, Tommy. There’re no saints here.”

It’s not as bad as he thought. Adam seems okayish enough, and even though the cell is smaller than his tiniest kitchen has ever been he feels like he can do this. He just has to be careful. 

“Be wary of the guards. They’ve put bullets into innocent bystanders before, and you, Tommy, seem like an innocent bystander. Are you?” Adam is leaning against the table now, his ankles crossed, and he’s sipping his tea. 

“I’m guilty, you know.” He wants to sit too, but there’s nowhere to sit, just his bunk, but he doesn’t want to draw any attention to that. He leans against the bars instead. 

“We’re all guilty. We just never admit it.” Adam grins, and the dim light makes his scar look alive, like it has a mind of its own. 

Tommy shakes his head, wills that thought out of his mind. He doesn’t need to be more scared than he already is. 

“It’s been a long day,” Adam says, soft and kind, and that has Tommy alarmed. “I need to write a letter to my mom, but you can go to sleep. Nobody wanders about during the night. You’re safe.”

His heart is pounding in his chest like crazy. He stares at his bunk, the clean sheets that are in a pile there, and the two towels that are next to his pillow and blanket, and he starts to shake again, his fingers squeezing the cup in his hand. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m not gonna rape you in your sleep,” Adam says casually, then pulls the chair from under the table and sits down. “Good night.”

He just stares because what the fuck? He can’t even breathe because the guy is so scary. And he probably got lucky. 

Tommy makes his bed, then thinks about brushing his teeth. The sink is at Adam’s end, and he doesn’t dare to go there. Still, he hates the taste in his mouth, the way the tea made everything sour. 

He takes his paste and brush, walks up to the sink, and turns the faucet on. He doesn’t look at Adam, just concentrates on the task, trying to be as invisible and insignificant as possible. 

Still, at some point, Adam grabs his wrist and startles him so badly he drops his toothbrush. 

“You’re lucky you’re with me. I won’t hurt you.” 

Somehow, Tommy can’t bring himself to believe in those words. Maybe because Adam is holding his wrist too tight, or because of the look on his face. Regardless, he nods. If he gets even a tiny amount of protection it’s good enough until he learns to survive here on his own. 

Adam lets go, and he goes to bed, shaking like a leaf. 

It’s ridiculous how rattled he is, but the whole experience is just so otherworldly. He never thought that this would happen to him: a few years in prison with murderers and rapists. He’s heard stories. He’s seen movies. He knows what happens to guys like him in prison. How or when it happens is the fucking question, and he doesn’t want to spend his nights wondering if tomorrow is the day when he finally gets raped. He’s willing to go to great lengths to keep his ass to himself. His first action is creating a weapon, and the easiest way to make one is tying a few of his bed strings together. Adam just needs to go to sleep for him to do that. 

That happens after an hour, but it feels so much longer, especially when he realizes Adam is standing close by, and he doesn’t know if Adam is staring at him or if he’s doing something. It makes the air stiff, and it’s hard for him to breathe, but somehow he manages and then Adam is up in his bunk, snoring lightly pretty much instantly. 

He works with the weapon for a while, then hides it under his mattress. He needs tape so he can hide it better, but for now, this has to do. 

The breakfast call is at 5:30 AM, but since Adam doesn’t get up he doesn’t either. He won’t spend his first day without someone beside him, and right now, that someone is Adam. He just has to figure out if he needs to arrange a change of cells, or if Adam is as harmless as he says he is. 

The cell is so small that they have to walk sideways to pass each other, and the first time they do that they are face to face. It’s awkward and strange, especially since Adam smirks, using more space than he needs, crowding Tommy against the wall. Yeah, not dangerous at all. 

They go to the inmate canteen to buy breakfast: oatmeal and coffee, and then take it back to their cell. Adam says it’s better than what they serve at ass-crack of dawn even though the porridge tastes pretty much like cardboard. Tommy doesn’t want to know what the normal breakfast tastes like. 

Adam is working with NASA-related machine parts so there their roads separate, but they are not far from each other, and there are always guards around. Just not that many: over five thousand inmates and less than two thousand guards. Tommy wonders what a riot would do, really. The prison wasn’t designed for this many people anyway.

He works with his hands, manual labor that makes no sense to him, but it’s easy enough and he’s putting two parts together over and over and over again. It’s better than call-centers, and the thought makes him smile because what would happen if inmates sold goods via the phone? 

When his work day is over it’s time for a shower and all he gets to take with him are his boxers and his towel. There’s only two guards with them, but Adam is walking beside him, and he feels a little bit safer. It’s stupid of him, but he can’t help it. Adam didn’t hurt him so he’s being lulled into the idea of false security. He knows it. 

He doesn’t know which way to turn. He doesn’t want to show off his family jewels, but he doesn’t want to turn his back to anyone either. He chooses the jewels because at least that way he’ll know if someone is coming. The guards are not interested in a little sexual interaction between the inmates as long as it seems mostly consensual. And even if it doesn’t they’re not eager to stop it. 

Adam stays close to him, and nothing happens, and then they are ready to go. It’s bizarre and almost normal, and he dares to breathe a little easier.

Tommy has an AA meeting, although there is nothing anonymous about it. He sits at the back, listening to the bullshit with half an ear, mostly concentrating on the chords that are playing in his head. He hopes his mom is able to bring his guitar the first time she visits. 

Then it’s time for dinner, and Adam tells him that he needs to be on guard, that this is when almost all the bad things happen, all the gang and race related bullshit that is tearing prisons apart all over the country. Here they get slashed. Here they get beaten. Here happens most of the violence (if you don’t count the yard). 

Tommy gets his food, sits down at the table Adam has chosen, and eats as quickly as he can, being as quiet and harmless as he can be. Nothing happens in the cafeteria, but the alarm goes off anyway, and they all have to go down onto the ground on their hands and knees. The whole prison goes down, nice and easy, because someone has done something nasty somewhere else. It rattles their nerves, makes them agitated, and when it’s over their food is mostly cold. It sucks. 

When dinner is over Tommy has a few college classes, but Adam stays in his bunk watching TV. Tommy thought that what the hell, if he’s going to spend a few years in prison he might as well do something with his life. He wants to learn a craft. He wants to find a job that could support him after prison. 

If he survives it first. 

The first day has been a lot easier than he thought, and when he gets back to his cell he realizes that he didn’t go to the yard at all. He didn’t even see the gym, and those two are the usual places people associate with inmates. Maybe this is why his day has gone better. He chooses to spend it doing something productive. 

When he steps into the cell Adam is lying in his bunk, reading. 

“How was your day?” Adam asks, still reading. 

“It was okay.” He really needs to take a piss so he goes to the toilet and opens his pants. He has his back to Adam so Adam doesn’t see anything, and that makes it a little easier. Still, it’s hard to go when someone is right there. 

“Did you get any looks?”

“A few. Nothing like in OZ, though.”

Adam turns on his side, and Tommy quickly pulls his pants up and flushes, then washes his hands. “So you watched that,” Adam says, curious. “Nothing like real life, though.”

“It never is,” Tommy says, looking up, noticing how Adam is staring. It seems more intense because he only has one good eye, and Tommy doesn’t know how much sociopath is there behind Adam’s calm face. “How’d you get that?” he asks, waving his hand around his own face. He knows he should keep his head down, and not ask questions, but he’s curious. 

“First year in prison, someone thought I couldn’t hold my position. He thought wrong.”

“And what is your position?”

Adam just smiles, and it’s unnerving. 

He gives up, and goes to his bunk, starts reading the book he got from the prison library before his class. 

The next day is far more hectic. There are two alarms, longer than the day before because someone has gone missing after an attempt against a guard’s life. At one point, someone also pushes Tommy so hard from behind that he falls on his hands and knees. The person is gone before he can even turn around, and it annoys him so much. He can’t protect himself if he doesn’t keep his eyes open at all times. 

A week goes by like that, and it’s nothing like he imagined. It’s far more boring and painful for the mind than he ever thought. He’s trapped, and he can’t do anything. He can’t go to the movies. He can’t go get a beer if he wants. He can’t pick someone up and have mindless sex with them at one AM. He can do nothing. Everything he does is controlled, and he understands better why people try to break the control. It gets so boring he feels like his brain is melting and leaking out of his ears. And it’s only been a week. A week. 

His mother brings his acoustic guitar, then talks about everything else but the fact that Tommy is in prison. They talk about Lisa and her family. They talk about uncle Rick and his notorious women troubles. It’s all about outside life, and it makes Tommy miss everything. It’s crazy how fast it got to him. How much he wants out. 

When his mom is gone he does nothing. He feels so apathetic. 

It’s not until after a month that things change. 

Adam has been acting weirder than before, and then one fine Wednesday at two PM Tommy finally gets to know how it feels when someone stuffs their cock in his mouth in the showers. 

Adam whispers in his ear, “Either you do this to me now or someone else takes you.” just before he pushes him down on his knees.

He doesn’t do anything. He just takes it, water running down his back, his knees spread. He doesn’t even know how to breathe because it’s so unbelievable. He’s angry, but most of all he’s shocked. Adam’s cock hits the back of his throat, and for a second there he fears he’ll suffocate, but then Adam comes with a violent jerk of his hips, and it’s over. Adam pushes him away with his knee, saying something, laughing, but Tommy doesn’t hear much. He knows he can’t stay there for long, not on the ground on his knees, that stunned look on his face. He has to move. When he doesn’t someone picks him up, someone twice his size, someone so tall he could be a basketball player. “I’ve had my eye on you,” the guy says, holding Tommy up, his hands curled around Tommy’s biceps. “You got lucky. He never takes anyone without their consent. He makes them beg first.” 

Tommy pulls free of the hold, knowing that if the guy wanted to keep him where he was he could do absolutely nothing. Everything about the guy is enormous, and he’s so fucking happy none of it is coming closer to him anymore. The guy turns his back to him, and the moment is over. He goes back under his shower, opening his mouth, hoping to get rid of the taste. He spits water out over and over again. He fucking swallowed. 

He stays out of Adam’s way until it’s time for lock down. He’s so angry he’s fuming. He can’t believe that Adam made him think they were friends, that they had each other’s backs. He hates the motherfucker. 

He knows he’s being stupid, but he can’t help it. He acts like he’s angry. His movements are angry. He fills the cell with his anger. And finally Adam gives him some attention. He looks at Tommy from his bunk, just looks. 

“Fuck you,” Tommy says, giving Adam the finger. 

Adam is on him before he can even blink. He’s pushed against the wall, his hands locked above his head, Adam’s body pressing down on him. “New rules. You don’t jerk off anywhere but in the showers, and you don’t say anything bad about me anywhere. You do as I say when I say. Understood?” 

The panic that spreads in him makes him tremble, and he knows Adam can feel it. He hates it. He hates himself, and he tries to fight back, tries to bite Adam, tries to kick him, but Adam turns him around, pushes him against the wall with such force all breath leaves his body. “Listen to me, Finley is not a nice guy. Anyone else I could’ve dealt with. He would’ve hurt you permanently. The last guy was in the infirmary for a month, and never recovered completely. He likes his boys tight so he can open them up. He really likes that.”

“You just like to make them beg,” he spits out, still so angry even the fear can’t drive it away. 

“Yes, I do. If the game is on that’s what I do. And they all know it.”

“Get off me.” He pushes with his body, but only ends up rubbing himself against Adam. He bites his teeth together, then says, “I won’t beg.”

“You will. They all did.” It’s a whisper in his ear.

“Fuck you. Fuck. You.” 

“Go to sleep. And remember: no jerking off anywhere but in the showers, and you don’t say anything negative about me. I’m what’s standing between you and Finley. Keep that in mind.”

He sags against the wall when Adam lets go. He gathers every ounce of his strength, takes two steps, and slides into his bunk. He doesn’t even take his shoes off. Fuck Adam, fuck his stupid life, fuck the bastard who died so easily. He doesn’t want to stay here for one more second, and he has at least three years waiting for him. 

He realizes soon enough that it really is a game. People bet on it: how long he will last in Adam’s hands, and that makes him even more determined not to fall into any traps anymore. He’s a straight dude, although he knows that most of the guys in prison are. He hates Adam’s guts. He has every reason not to want anything from Adam. He has a pretty strong case. 

Two times in the showers, nothing happens. On the third time, Adam crowds him close to the wall and tells him, “The only place I’ll ever touch you is your ass, unless you ask me to.” Adam’s fingers are right there, wet and searching, and Tommy goes completely stiff. He needs to stop thinking like he knows what’s going to happen. He thought Adam wouldn’t force himself on him after that first time because of this game. 

Adam pushes one finger inside him, slowly, moving it until he finds that bundle of nerves inside Tommy, until his rigid spine melts just a little, and he lets out a sound that is part-shock, part-pleasure. “This is the only thing I’ll do. Touch you here. I won’t hurt you, but you’ll let me touch you. And this is the only time you get to jerk off.”

He isn’t hard, nowhere near getting there, and he bites his lip, frustrated and angry. He’s so angry. “Fuck off,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady while Adam moves his finger inside him, stroking him, almost gentle. It’s humiliating, and he’s sure they have an audience. 

Adam pulls his finger out, putting his whole hand over Tommy’s hole. “You’ll learn to wait for this.”

He’s blinking his rage away because this is just too much. He can’t say what he’s thinking because Adam told him not to say anything negative about him, and even in this state of mind he understands why. He’s under protection, and he’s Adam’s property. If he disrespects him more than the game allows he’s toast. 

Tommy washes himself clean, then leaves before anyone can say a word. 

The daily routine becomes almost as normal as it was that first month, but the shower time stays the same. Adam is very persistent, and sometimes he plays with Tommy the whole time they are in the showers. It’s not always bad, and Tommy starts to feel the lack of orgasms. He hasn’t jerked off for two weeks, and he gets constantly hard over the stupidest things. Watching TV is really annoying because there are lots of hot ladies there, and he can’t do anything about it. He hasn’t had sex in months because of the whole life-changing experience. 

He’s starting to understand how Adam’s game works. Time is on his side. All he has to do is wait long enough and at some point Tommy has to release some of the tension, and then that good, good feeling is connected to what Adam is doing. 

He doesn’t understand why he should follow Adam’s rules, though, except it seems he has eyes and ears everywhere. Adam is someone big in prison. There are gangs, but he’s not a gang member. It seems more like he’s in command of most of those white people (he had never realized how separate all races are in prison) who are not in gangs, or at least he has power enough to own people and their loyalty. And they tattle. 

One night, when he’s washing his hands after taking a piss, Adam comes to him, stands behind him, and puts a hand over Tommy’s throat. He goes quiet because he knows what this is about, and it’s guilt laying heavily in his stomach. 

“You jerk off in the showers, nowhere else.” Adam squeezes his throat, cutting off air, and Tommy leans back without thinking, resting most of his weight against Adam. It’s all kinds of crazy, and for a second there, he goes blind. “Remember that next time,” Adam says, pushing him away. 

It takes another three weeks to break him. 

He’s felt tense the whole day, unable to concentrate on anything, and he made two annoying mistakes at work, and then nearly fell on the stairs back to their cell. When it’s time for shower he’s half-hard, and he wants nothing but to come, quick and dirty, and if he has to deal with Adam messing with him, then so be it. 

Adam doesn’t waste any time, just kicks his legs apart and presses his body against Tommy’s, chest to back, so close there is no room for his fingers yet. Tommy puts one forearm against the wall, rests his head against it, and circles his hand around his dick, a satisfied groan escaping his lips. 

If Adam is surprised he doesn’t show it, just puts his arm around Tommy’s waist, and pulls his own body back enough to tease Tommy’s ass. 

He tries to ignore it, tries to think about all the things that he’s ever found sexy or dirty enough for a quicky. Adam is highly distracting, though. 

Tommy curses his body because the constant pressure against his prostate makes him weak in the knees, and Adam knows what to do, how to move his fingers, how to spread them, how to stroke Tommy’s insides, and it feels good, especially now that he has his hand on his cock. He wants to come. He wants nothing but. He’s burning for it. 

He bites his arm so he won’t let the sound out when he comes. He’s shaking, his muscles tight, his whole body tensing, then relaxing, and he can’t feel his legs for a moment. Adam holds him up, his fingers still inside Tommy, rubbing gently, and it’s too much. 

He lets go of his cock, then tries to pull Adam’s hand away. Adam won’t let him, and it takes awhile until Adam releases him. When that happens Tommy doesn’t look at Adam. He soaps himself all over, and then gets out, a few catcalls following him. 

Tommy is now very aware what’s going on, and how this affects him. He just doesn’t know how to avoid it. Adam is very good at what he does, and the whole situation is under his control. What he says happens, and Tommy has no way out. He could try to endure the shower behaviour without jerking off, but he’s getting familiar with it, and no matter how much he tries to pretend it’s just sexual frustration it isn’t. Adam knows how to bend his will, how to push him enough. If it wasn’t such a constant presence he could ignore it, but since Adam isn’t violent, isn’t forceful in any other way except how he makes it happen Tommy has no tools against it. It’s not awful. It would never be his first choice, but it’s not terrible, and the way he affects Adam is starting to affect him too. 

Sometimes Adam’s breath hitches when Tommy shifts in his arms, when Adam hits that perfect spot way too many perfect times, and Tommy has no other choice but to come undone. But nothing else happens. Tommy has never seen or heard him jerk off. He’s never seen Adam fuck anyone else. The only time he’s seen Adam come was that first time he used Tommy’s mouth. Otherwise he lives that frustration Tommy went through the first weeks of Adam’s torture. He is now torturing himself, but it doesn’t show at all. He’s on top of his game, fishing information and goods like the pro that he is, handling Tommy and disputes easily as if it’s his second nature. Adam is like a fucking monk, and that starts to annoy Tommy. He uses Tommy’s body, makes him a slobbering mess, yet it does nothing for him. Yeah, he has a hard on. Yeah, he sometimes rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder until his breaths even out, but otherwise, nothing. 

One night, in their cell, Tommy finally confronts him. “What are you doing?” he asks, that same bitter anger coloring his voice. 

“Reading.”

Tommy wants to hit the bunk above him. Instead he turns on his side, pulling his legs close to his chest. He bites his lips, frustration making his blood boil. “You’re a fucktard.” 

Adam’s legs come to view, then he jumps down and crouches beside Tommy’s bunk. “Do you want something?”

“No.” He wishes he had turned his back before Adam jumped down. Now it would just seem petty and childish. He stares at Adam defiantly. 

“Are you sure?” Adam slides a hand over Tommy’s side, and it surprises him. He doesn’t dare to move because he doesn’t want to give any ideas to Adam. 

He nods. 

Adam stands up. “Okay.” The casual way he stays there has Tommy fuming again. Adam is showing off skin, only his shorts on, and Tommy stares. He doesn’t want to stare because Adam is an asshole who’s driving him crazy, but Adam is a very talented manipulative asshole who makes him want to know things. 

The next day is quiet, and he doesn’t jerk off in the showers, and Adam is not that interested in teasing him. It’s a little troubling to him because he’s so used to it now, but he forces himself to think that he’s glad. He’s not glad. He’s confused as hell, and he doesn’t understand this game even though he thought he did. He thought he understood how Adam is trying to break him, but now he’s not sure. He thought that the constant connection between orgasms and something stuffed into his ass would make him think that those two are somehow connected. Now, when Adam just backs down for a second he doesn’t get it. 

A week goes by when all Adam does is fondle him a little. He traces his ass, circles his hole, but doesn’t push his fingers in. He doesn’t even seem to care that Tommy is still getting some, happily jerking off now that he doesn’t have to feel one bit confused. 

All of a sudden, his whole prison life has become a game. He’s Adam’s play thing, and everyone knows it. They stay the fuck away, and he’s very grateful for that. Even during violent incidents he’s pretty much safe if he can stay out of the guards’ way. 

He thinks about nothing else but the next time Adam'll do something, the next time he’ll try to avoid jerking off in front of Adam, the next time they'll go to sleep in their cell, and Adam will walk by, shirtless, his muscles moving under his skin... and this is beyond idiotic. He’s not this easily manipulated. He can’t be. Adam isn’t trying to break his will. At least he doesn’t feel any such pressure, but sometimes he wonders if Adam did that the first time he made Tommy take his fingers because that was almost as surprising as the show-off blow job. Maybe that did something to him, and he’s now Adam’s in some way. Marked. 

He is marked to the others, and it’s clear that his resistance is creating some kind of entertainment for the prison. Maybe it has always been like this. Every new boy that Adam chooses to protect becomes the betting arena of the prison. How long? How many months? 

Tommy is nowhere near asking for anything from Adam, but he’s very near to curious. He’s curious about Adam, about his talented body parts. He can’t stop wondering how it would feel if Adam’s hand touched him instead of his own. 

He’s had plenty of opportunities outside. Many guys seem to think he’s just their type, but he’s never been interested. And now, all of a sudden, he’s interested in how Adam would feel. It doesn’t make any sense. 

The next time comes and goes, and Adam continues to be the patient monk who makes Tommy squirm but then does nothing to his own raging hard on. It has to be painful. Tommy is blue balling Adam, yet it doesn’t seem to affect him. 

That makes him want to break Adam instead. 

In the showers, he leans closer to Adam, moves in his hold, rubs himself against Adam’s cock, trying to get a reaction out of him, but nothing happens. In the private space of their cell, he’s mostly shirtless, brushing against Adam needlessly whenever they have to move past each other. 

Still, nothing. 

Then one night, when he’s pressed himself twice against Adam by accident, Adam asks him, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He’s been playing a dangerous game. Maybe he doesn’t want anything, but he shouldn’t try to make Adam want him more. That’s just asking for blood. “Why?” He’s sitting in his bunk, back against the wall, reading. Adam is sitting on the chair by the table. 

Then all of a sudden, Adam is crouching in front of him. That stops his heart. He could never move that fast. “I think you want me.”

“Dream on.” He goes back to his reading, but he can’t concentrate on the words because Adam’s fingers are touching his bare feet, moving up to his bent knees, spreading them. Tommy puts the book down, watching Adam, and he’s afraid again, thrilled but afraid too. He doesn’t know what Adam will do, or how much he’ll hold onto the game. Adam could do anything.

Adam grabs his wrist, holding his thumb over his pulsepoint. “Racing,” he says quietly. 

“Fear.” Tommy bites his lip because Adam is staring at his mouth. 

“Sure.” Adam isn’t denying it, but it’s clear he thinks it’s more than that. 

Adam pulls at his feet, turns him sideways so he’s lying on the bed now, and Tommy makes a protesting sound, but it’s muffled by the pillow because Adam flips him over. He’s lying on his stomach, Adam between his thighs, pulling his shorts down. 

Tommy tries to turn around, but Adam puts a flat palm against his back, holds him there, and when he kicks with his feet Adam spreads his legs with his knees so wide Tommy can’t move. He’s panicking, and then Adam moves down, spreads his asscheeks and kisses his hole. That makes Tommy rigid because fingers are not this intimate. The touch is soft, wet, dirty, and when Adam starts to lick him he bites the pillow because it feels too fucking good. 

Adam keeps licking him until Tommy’s hips start to move in a soft solid rhythm, his dick rubbing against the mattress. Then Adam pushes his tongue inside him as far as it goes, and Tommy grabs the edge of the bed, desperate. He doesn’t know how not to let it affect him. It affects the hell out of him, and he wants to push back. He wants more. 

His eyes are watering because he’s squeezing them shut so tight, and his fingers are hurting, the edge of the bed rough under them. He wants to let out sounds, anything because whatever Adam is doing he’s done this before, and he’s so fucking good at it. 

Tommy tries to sneak a hand between the bed and himself, but Adam grabs it, then says, “No, if you want release you either come on my tongue or let me touch you.” Adam really means it because he lifts Tommy’s hips up enough so he’s not touching the bed anymore. No friction whatsoever, and he wants to come.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, his face down and ass up, and Adam spreads him again, licks and kisses and bites his sensitive skin, and it’s driving him mad. “Fuck you.”

Adam isn’t listening. He just eats Tommy up, even licks his balls, and he’s so turned on now it hurts. He can’t take this for long, can’t. 

“Please,” he begs, trying to bite the word off his lips. He needs to come. 

Adam pushes a finger inside him, his tongue there too, and he’s able to reach Tommy’s prostate. Tommy squirms in his hold, trying to get his hips down enough to get some friction. 

“Get me off,” he says, nearly out of his mind. “Just do it. Fuck. Do it.” When that doesn’t get him a hand around his dick he begs, “Please, fucking please just touch me. Please.”

Adam takes Tommy’s cock in his hand and jerks him off while licking him senseless. The orgasm hits him hard, crushing through his nervous system, and it’s the best he’s ever had. It leaves him boneless, and he just lies there, barely breathing, barely alive. 

Adam pulls away, patting his ass. “Good boy.”

“I’m... not... your... boy...”

“Not yet.”

“Get the fuck off my bunk.” 

Adam goes, but not before kissing his neck. That annoys Tommy even more. He hates himself for being so weak. 

He hears Adam washing his hands, and he realizes his bed is not that wet. Adam made sure he’d have a dry bed to sleep on. How very nice of him. 

A week goes by, and all he gets is a few fingers in his ass. He’s so used to that now that it doesn’t even affect his jerk-off sessions. He tries to ignore Adam otherwise, but it’s not so easy. He still sits with Adam during dinner, and Adam has even started to come to class with him. He plays his guitar sometimes in his cell, Adam listening, and the guys complaining about the noise, but he knows he’s good, and there’s very little entertainment in prison. Someone asks him to play at the yard too, and he does, going through his rock’n’roll repertoire. They don’t gather around him, not by far, but they do enjoy it. 

Then Adam changes the rules again. 

They are in the showers, and Adam has him pinned against the wall, and they are face to face. This has never happened before. It makes Tommy very aware he’s hard already, and Adam hasn’t even done anything yet. 

Adam pushes Tommy’s hair behind his ear, his whole body weighing on Tommy, and whispers in his ear, “From now on, you get to come only if you ask me to do it.”

That sucks. That’s cruel, and he’s about to protest when Adam puts a finger over his lips, staring into his eyes. Then he traces Tommy’s spine, down, down, down, and pushes a finger inside him, all the while watching him, every shift on his face. 

He closes his eyes because he doesn’t want to look at Adam. He doesn’t want to show him anything. He can’t help the way he bites his lip, though, or the way he pushes his head back, revealing his throat, and Adam pulls him closer, presses his fingers deeper, spreading Tommy. 

“I want inside you,” Adam whispers in his ear. “I want to feel you around me. I want to fill you. You’re not making this easy.”

Adam’s words make him shiver, and he grabs his shoulders because Adam is pushing closer and pulling him nearer, and it’s a weird unbalanced feeling. Adam pushes deeper in, rubbing his insides, and he tries not to pant. He’s hard against Adam’s stomach, and Adam’s hard cock is between his thighs, pushing against his balls. 

“Please say yes at some point,” Adam says, his lips touching Tommy’s ear and cheek. “I want you. God... I’ve never wanted anyone to say yes as much as I want you to.”

He doesn’t believe a word Adam is saying, but it doesn’t stop him from reacting to the breath near his neck. He tilts his head to the side, and Adam takes it as the invitation it is, biting and sucking and licking Tommy’s neck, marking him. He moans, unable to stop himself. 

Adam manhandles him, makes him turn around, and Adam is right there, almost pushing inside him, and he lets out a surprised squeak. Maybe Adam was more serious about the things he said, and Tommy is finally getting to him too. Instead of pushing in, Adam uses his fingers, filling Tommy with three, fast and relentless. Tommy is writhing in Adam’s arms, trying to keep his mouth shut, trying not to ask for Adam’s hand. 

The shower is over before Adam manages to make him beg, and Tommy is grateful. He tries his best to stay out of Adam’s way for the next five days. He doesn’t even go to the showers with the rest of the guys. 

He cleans himself with a wet towel, splashes water on his face, washes his hair in the sink, but shower is a no-go at the moment. He just can’t deal with the way Adam is acting right now. He doesn’t know what it means, what his own need means. 

He has to stop this. 

On the sixth day, he goes to the showers, and Adam doesn’t even touch him, doesn’t come near him at all, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Too early, though, because that night, Adam does it to him again, spreads him on the bed, and licks him wet and open, facing him, lifting his legs on his shoulders, making him watch while he writhes in Adam’s hands, on Adam’s tongue. It’s humiliating, and he’s blushing, and begging, but Adam doesn’t touch him, just leaves him there after a while, in pain, in need, so ready he has to curl into a ball to fight back the feelings. It hurts. 

Adam does that every night for a week, and he thinks he might just die from too much pleasure and nothing that brings him down from it. 

He’s starting to feel the effects of not getting any orgasms while getting very fucking aroused. He feels like a zombie, and he goes to the infirmary to get some sleeping pills. The nurse asks him if everything is alright, if he’s doing okay in prison, and he nods, then says something about missing home. 

His mom visits regularly, so do some of his friends, and the longer he’s in, the less people are mad at him and the more they write letters and come to visit him. He never expected that. He thought everyone would turn their back on him, but it seems that him serving his time and not becoming a crazy person because of that is making them realize that he made a mistake. 

He’s made a lot of mistakes. And he’s starting to think that the worst of them was not asking for a transfer to another cell. Adam is getting under his skin in every way possible, and he’s breathing Adam in like an addict. He’s being manipulated, and he’s letting it happen. He wants to let it happen. He wants Adam to fuck him. He wants to spread his legs slutty-wide and beg. He’s that far gone. And he wonders if the other boys felt exactly the same. 

Tommy can’t even remember why it should be an issue. He just wants Adam’s cock. He wants his mouth. He wants his hands. Everything. Why shouldn’t he take all of it? Why should he fight? There is no other reason but pride. 

And he’s falling apart because he’s not getting any. Adam is now making sure he almost comes every time, and he’s so close, so fucking close, wanting so bad, and it never happens. 

That night he begs for Adam to fuck him: please, please, please, leaving his lips like a prayer. He’s not beyond begging anymore. He just wants to know. He just wants. And still, Adam doesn’t fuck him, just kisses his spine, and tells him to go to sleep. 

That makes him so angry he kicks Adam, and they fight for a moment, until Adam has him pinned to the bed. He growls at Adam, trying to bite him, but it does him nothing good. Adam leaves, goes to his own bunk, and Tommy is so wrung out he might just cry. 

The next time Adam comes to him he fights, more than he’s ever fought before, and he hopes he would’ve fought in the beginning too. Adam gets a bloody lip; Tommy is unharmed, but Adam is holding his head back, the grip on his hair so tight there are tears in his eyes. “Prepare yourself for me, and I’ll do it,” Adam says, biting his chin. 

He’s free after that, and Adam goes to his bunk. 

Tommy’s heart won’t stop racing, his breaths escaping him. He’s too stunned to think, but he feels heavy. He can’t believe the fact that he’s going to do it. He’s going to make himself ready for Adam so he can fuck him. The thought crushes him, and he pulls the blanket over his head, trying to hide from the thoughts. 

He fights the idea for another week, and even though Adam doesn’t do anything, he’s a constant presences in Tommy’s life. He gets hard from the tiniest things, and it hurts because it’s been so long. He needs to get some. Adam made sure of that. 

He chooses a night when Adam isn’t there. He cleans himself up, brushes his teeth, finds Adam’s lube, and lies down on the bed, spreading his legs. There’s a sheet hanging from Adam’s bunk to cover his so nobody sees him through the bars. He doesn’t want an audience, but he knows he’ll be getting one. Adam wants him to beg loud enough so they’ll know. 

Tommy pushes a finger inside him, pulls it out a little, then pushes it deeper in, his legs falling open. He’s fighting the embarrassment, and the hot, hot feeling in his stomach, the anticipation. 

He imagines Adam inside him, filling him, moving in and out of him, warm and heavy. He adds another finger, then another, his cock hard. He wants to touch it, but he’s so fucking obedient already that he doesn’t. 

When he’s done he turns on his stomach, spreading his legs wide, knowing that the lube is glistening on his hole and thighs. This is what prison has done to him. He’s someone’s bitch, and he wants it so bad he’s dying. 

“Oh my god...” Adam says, and Tommy turns to look at him. He pulls one knee up, spreading himself more, but says nothing. The game is on. 

Adam comes to him, crouching beside the bunk, his hands sliding all over Tommy’s naked body. It feels so good he can’t hold back the moan, and when Adam pushes his hand between his thighs, cups his balls, and presses his palm against Tommy’s wet hole he whines, so grateful that this is enough begging he needs to do. 

“I want to fill you up, baby,” Adam whispers in his ear, and he rubs his ass against Adam’s hand so fucking ready to be filled. 

“Please,” he says. “I can’t wait anymore. Please.”

“So perfect,” Adam says, kissing his jaw. “All wet and open for me.” Adam slides two fingers easily inside him, scissors them a little, and Tommy moans into the pillow. 

Adam stands up, takes off his clothes, and then moves on top of Tommy, not wasting any time. He brushes Tommy’s hair off his face, kisses his ear, then whispers, “Beg for me, baby.”

He feels Adam right there, the head of his cock spreading his hole, and he breathes through that feeling, trying not to pass out. “Adam, do it, please. I can’t... Just... Please... I want. I can’t, I can’t take it anymore. Please.” He continues to say mindless words, and then Adam takes his hands into his, their palms sweaty, and he moves his hips down, down, slowly, the pressure unbearable for a second and then it’s easy. 

Adam pushes in, deeper and deeper until Tommy thinks there can’t be more, this has to be it, and then there’s more. Adam’s fingers couldn’t prepare him for this, and he cries out, not caring one bit who might hear him. He’s being fucked, and it feels incredible. His toes curl, and he holds onto Adam’s hands as hard as he can, breathing hard, his blood rushing in his ears. 

“You feel incredible,” Adam says. “So warm. So soft. I want to keep you here, around me. Buried deep within you... Want. God, can I move?”

He nods, and when Adam does he moan-whines, lets it all out, his body so sensitive every little move Adam makes feels like firecrackers. 

They are so sweaty, and Adam feels heavy on top of him, but when Adam tries to lift his body up a bit, Tommy grabs his arm. “No!” Adam settles back down, taking a hold of Tommy’s shoulders for leverage, for something to hold onto as he rams into Tommy, so deep he can feel Adam’s balls against his skin. 

Adam is really fucking into him now, spreading him wider, holding him down, kissing his cheek and ear, then his lips, and that shocks him because they haven’t kissed before. At first it’s just fumbling, but then Tommy turns his head more, and he can’t stop kissing Adam, can’t stop licking into his mouth, and Adam’s fingers in his hair go tight, strong, unyielding, and he lets go completely, his body compliant, his mind even more so. He begs for more, harder. He begs for Adam to come inside him, fill him up, ruin him for anyone else. And he spills all that into Adam’s mouth, and then finally Adam lifts him enough to get a hand on his cock. It’s quick, the rhythm the same as Adam’s thrusts, and then he’s coming, his neck arching, his body tensing around Adam, and Adam groans in his hair, holds him down so hard it hurts. 

They lie like that for a while, too exhausted to move an inch. Tommy has never been this satisfied, and it’s not easy to accept that. His legs are toast, his arms are useless. He can’t do anything, and Adam is still inside him. He’s trapped, and his mind is fucked stupid.

“So good,” Adam says quietly.

He has to agree. 

“How long will I have you?” Adam kisses his cheek. 

“At least three years,” Tommy says without thinking.

Adam groans. “Not long enough.”

Tommy grins, trying to twist his head so he can look at Adam. It turns out to be impossible because he can’t even lift his head. “What about your parole?”

“Never tried one. Guilty as charged.”

He can’t believe he’s talking about this with Adam. They are not dating. It’s like Stockholm syndrome. He’s fallen for his captor. He knows all this, and yet still, he just goes with it because what? This was the best fuck of his life? He’s had some great ones. This still tops every single one of them. 

But relationships are built on other things than sex, and it’s a good thing he knows this because then he can just enjoy this until his time is up. After that he can go find a life outside the walls again. He doesn’t need anyone like Adam in his life. 

“I’m here because I killed two people in cold blood,” Adam says quietly, stroking Tommy’s shoulder blade. “They raped and killed my best friend. They did things... So I hunted them down. Premeditated. I understood perfectly well what I did. And I shot them. No regret whatsoever. Took the law in my own hands. I’m a dangerous, dangerous man to the outside world, you see.”

“You are.”

“I am now.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy tilts his head to the side so he can look at Adam. There’s no remorse on his face, just cold fury. All that looks so much worse because of the scar, and Tommy feels a little lost. He pushes at Adam, still holding him close too to make sure he knows he doesn’t want Adam to leave. He just wants to turn around. 

Adam stays halfway on top of him, his fingers sliding over Tommy’s chest, his leg thrown carelessly over Tommy’s. 

“You’re here too,” Adam says after a while. “Why feel sorry for someone else?”

“Because I was drunk and accidentally killed a stupid idiot who wouldn’t leave me alone. He wanted to smash my pretty face, and I wasn’t up for that. So I hit him with a bottle, and he died. I didn’t mean for him to die, and I wasn’t even trying to hit him with a bottle. It was just in my hand, and it happened. I was so drunk I can barely remember it. So yeah... Your story is worth a little ‘I’m sorry’. Just saying.”

Adam smiles. “You know, I was a singer before all this happened. I came to LA to be someone. Instead I became this. It’s pretty fucking sad.”

“Big dreams?”

“Yeah...”

“Me too. One of the reasons why I started drinking so much. I’m never gonna be anything. I try to fool myself into thinking that I can learn something here, but...”

Adam curls around him. He can’t explain it in any other way. He’s just suddenly cocooned by everything Adam, and it’s wet and sticky - they are so sweaty - but somehow he doesn’t care. 

“Did you know from the beginning that I’d want this?” Tommy asks, quiet, not knowing if he wants the answer. 

“I affect people. That’s why I’m so good at this life too. I knew you’d want me. I didn’t know you’d give in.” Adam has buried his face in Tommy’s neck, his lips brushing Tommy’s skin. 

“What now then?”

“I can keep you protected, out of most of it, or you can come in as my second.”

Tommy thinks about it. “If it’s the first option I’d only be your bitch?”

Adam laughs. “Yes, you’d only be my pretty little bitch.”

“Can you handle it on your own?”

“I’ve been doing it for seven years. I’m very good at what I do.” Adam bites his shoulder. “So, you want to be just this to me... begging on your hands and knees?” 

He wants to finish his degree. He wants to leave prison without getting slashed, or burned, or transformed. He can handle Adam’s torture. It’s the only kind of torture he can take. And he doesn’t want to be involved in prison politics. He has three years to his first parole hearing. “Yeah, I want that.”

Adam moves between his thighs, and lifts his legs on his shoulders, leaning over Tommy’s body, making him bend. Adam is hard, pressing easily into Tommy’s body, and it’s so surprising Tommy doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He tries to hold onto to the wall, the edge of the bed, the pillow, then he grabs Adam’s shoulders because Adam is all the way in, on top of him, staring at him, and he pulls Adam down for a kiss. It’s good, slow, and neither of them comes. It just is what it is: Adam telling him that this is what it’s going to be for the next three years, and he’s sure Adam will ruin him for anyone else, just like he asked.

**Author's Note:**

> I do a lot of research. I'm crazy like that. But I still took some liberties with the prison. For example I don't think this could've been happening in the showers. :P Although, what do I know. Sex is always happening in the showers in prison TV shows. Also, West Block is for new inmates so maybe Adam wouldn't have been there. Other small things too. But mostly, it's research because OMG, I can't do even porn without researching. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. It's a lot of power play. :)
> 
> This was betaed by the ever patient @aislinntlc. She rocks my fanfic world. :) <3 Thank you, bb.


End file.
